


I Hope It Hurts

by Demenscous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst(?), Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Inarizaki, Miya Atsumu is a Little Shit, Sexual Tension, Swearing, eventually turns to mutual pining, i mean they seriously want to kill each other, oh my god the tension, one sided pining, reader does go through some burnout bc of school, reader doesnt put up with anything, reader is kind of a caffeine addict, slowburn, what happened to cause all of this?, who knows honestly, yeah when i mean enemies to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:29:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26720674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demenscous/pseuds/Demenscous
Summary: You and Atsumu had never quite gotten along, not since the moment you'd met him. And despite knowing the setter in a different perspective than others, you would have thought that, over time, things may have changed--they may have gotten better. You couldn't have been farther from the truth...
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Comments: 110
Kudos: 182





	1. Chapter I

You were never a morning person.

That much was evident.

But, here you were, dragging ass to the gym where the boys held their practices at nearly seven in the morning.

 _The sun’s not even fucking up yet,_ you hissed inwardly, taking an absent-minded sip from the coffee tumbler in your hand and burning your tongue. Wincing visibly, you couldn’t suppress the string of incoherent curses that escaped from under your breath as you attempted to suck on the now painful spot in your mouth.

It didn’t help.

A cold breeze flitted past your body, a harrowing reminder of the weather yet to come when autumn toed the edge of a new winter--and with it, the sounds of muted shouts and sneakers against polished floors.

You wished you could say you were surprised when you slid the gym door open to find the twins and Suna, whom you presumed they most likely coerced to get here, already practicing. 

“You’re late,” Atsumu crooned in your direction before setting a ball for Osamu to spike, a gentle lacing of amusement in his voice.

“No, you’re just earlier than me,” your words were deadpan as you set your bag down on the bleachers, already reaching for the empty water bottles to fill for today’s grueling practice in preparation of a game being held with a neighboring team at the end of the week. 

A quiet snort from Suna was the only indication that he’d even bothered to pay attention to the conversations around him.

You continued gathering the bottles, carrying them to the water fountain located in one of the back hallways of the gym before filling them and returning to the bleachers. And by the time you’d situated yourself with the now cooling cup of coffee and a clipboard for taking observations, the rest of the team had already sauntered in, exhaustion still coursing through their bodies based on their placid demeanors.

Though, as you engrossed yourself in writing down the date and time as well as taking note of everyone’s attendance on the piece of paper in front of you, you failed to notice Atsumu crossing the court in your direction.

“What’s this?” He asked, quickly snatching the steaming drink that had been sitting at your side, your attention torn from the graphite letters that stood stark against the pale sheet--now focused on the grinning setter. He lightly sniffed at the opening of the tumbler, “Coffee again?”

God, you were not in the mood for dealing with this. 

You didn’t give Atsumu the satisfaction of finding any hint of ire or irritation in your expression as you spoke, “Put it down and go start stretching, Miya.” 

That grin only pulled further as he brought the edge of the cup to his lips and took a draw from the opening.

You had a half a mind to kick him between the legs right then and there, watch him crumble to the ground, and then smile like no sweeter victory would ever hold a candle to a moment as such. 

But, you supposed you could be civil for once.

You had already placed the clipboard down, letting the pencil fall on top of the paper for emphasis, with a sardonic little smile curling your lips, “Give me my cup back or I’m telling Kita to make you stay after and clean.”

Atsumu pretended as if he hadn’t heard a thing come from you, instead, donning a mocking look of thought as he tasted the coffee on his tongue, “Caramel?”

“Miya.” His name grit through your teeth like poison, the underlying threat blatantly obvious, as he brought his eyes back to you.

“Ya’ know,” he began, lifting the tumbler up in accentuation with his words, “you should bring me a cup next time, I see why you’re always drinkin’ this stuff now.” 

You didn’t say anything as you held your hand out--a silent demand to return what was rightfully yours--and Atsumu huffed a laugh as he lowered the tumbler to your outstretched fingers.

And then halted.

 _Oh,_ so today was going to be one of those days then.

It took quite some effort to keep your face indifferent as you watched him bring the cup back to his eye level, scrutinizing something you weren’t able to see.

“Looks like I spilt some on the edge, sorry ‘bout that.”

Fully expecting him to simply wipe the excess coffee away with a finger, a hand, even the hem of his shirt, you narrowed your eyes at him as he looked down at you--and then licked the coffee away in the most lewd manner imaginable. 

There was no stopping the way your jaw went slack with abhorrent incredulity. 

For as much as you handled and tolerated Atsumu’s mirthful antics nearly every day as their manager, this was crossing a line you hadn’t known he would dare reach. And before you had a chance to react, whether that would’ve ended in a verbal lashing or a physical assault, Kita was already calling the setter to join in on warm-ups and Atsumu took his leave with a final, satisfied smirk as he placed the metal cup in your faltering hand.

You sat there, watching him stroll back to the court, too confounded to snap out of your own stupor until the coach blew his whistle and you were taking the abandoned clipboard in your lap again.

The rest of practice was seemingly normal; no one questioned what Atsumu had been previously discussing with you, no one asked why you were gripping your pencil just a tad too tight, and no one mentioned how you grumbled irritably whilst using a jacket sleeve to relentlessly wipe off the edge of your tumbler before you drank out of it again.

You were more than well aware that Atsumu’s little exhibitions were just that--a show, an act, a scene to get your blood roiling beneath your skin, but it was a rare day indeed when it truly worked.

Soon enough, practice came to an end and the monotonous school day droned on, hours bleeding into the next until the bell was ringing and you were striding towards the cafeteria, slipping past crowds of people with half of your focus on the phone in front of you instead of where you were walking.

Your brows furrowed at the text you received from your friend.

 _Shit_.

You groaned internally, rereading the words, hoping you’d misread but--no, she was sick and she wouldn’t be here today to sit with you for lunch. You weighed your options: sit alone outside in the biting air and pray no one bothers you, join a few of the boys you knew had the same lunch period, or take company in some good acquainted classmates.

After remembering that Atsumu was included in those few boys who shared the period with you, you gladly chose the last option.

Making your way into the cafeteria, the mingling aromas of food drifting through the air, you pinpointed where a few of your peers were sitting, eating and talking with inviting casualness. Upon noticing your approaching figure, they all turned their attention toward you, greeting you with polite words and smiles.

“Mind if I join? Riye’s sick today, so I don’t have anyone to sit with.” You laughed lightly at your own words, realizing how pitiful they may have sounded if not for the equally inviting smile you returned to your classmates.

“Of course, sit down, sit down!” Sachiko, the girl who you tended to exchange answers with in English, exclaimed quickly, scooting over to allow you a seat next to her. You inclined your head gratefully, lowering yourself on the bench and taking out your lunch. It wasn’t difficult to fall into conversation with Sachiko and the others after that, in fact, it was so easy you’d been genuinely surprised. Topics shifted from complaints about classwork to local gossip to sports articles and everything in between, there were no awkward pauses, just flowing conversation as if you sat here every day with these people.

You’d been finishing a bottle of tea when Sachiko had focused her attention on you, “What’s it like managing the boys’ volleyball team?”

For as much as the question had caught you off guard, you forced yourself to swallow and recap the bottle before responding, “It’s…interesting. Sometimes I get whiplash from how they can go from stoic to idiotic in a matter of seconds. It’s ridiculous, actually, but Kita knows how to keep them in check, even when I’m not able to.” Now, it wasn’t just Sachiko who was honed in on your words; the rest of the table looked at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to continue, so you did, “Games are fun though, tense, but it can be difficult to actually enjoy it when I’m having to take notes constantly on their performance.”

This time it was Keiko, a girl with a tight ponytail, who spoke up, “Isn’t there a game this Friday?”

You teetered the bottle on the edges of its cylindrical bottom, fiddling with it in your hands, “Oh, yeah, there is--it’s gonna be held in the main gym at seven p.m. if you’re interested in coming.”

Keiko grinned cheekily, “Oh, I’ll be coming; I’d love to see those twins on the court all sweaty and serious.” The other girls laughed along with Keiko’s comment, though you were chuckling for a different reason entirely.

You understood the appeal of the twins--they were attractive, opposing forces in respect to each other and it seemed that, no matter the person, at least one of the twins was _someone’s_ type. Though, you also understood that it was easier to become enamored with the _idea_ of a person, and not the person themselves. That much was true when you’d first met Atsumu and any minute amount of previous interest you had garnered for him in past fleeting moments had faded the instant he’d opened his mouth and his charming appeal was lost on you entirely.

It was now someone else’s turn to level their question at you, “What’re the twins like when they’re off the court?” You didn’t recognize the girl who spoke, but she looked to be a year below you--a first year.

While one side of you had already begun listing off every attribute of either twin, both pleasant and unpleasant alike, you refrained from counting off descriptions with your fingers and instead settled on a shrug, “How they are on the court is pretty similar to when they’re off of it too, bickering included.”

The younger girl gave a contended hum, but Keiko was motioning behind you with a jerk of her chin, “Ah, looks like we’re not the only ones with the twins on our minds.”

You quirked a brow, choosing to keep your protest at her words quiet, as you turned in your seat to the table at your back--where the boys were currently sitting. You watched as two girls approached the twins, each with a small gift in their hands and a bashful smile on their blushing faces. It was sweet of them, you thought, that they would go through the effort of either buying or making a small present in hopes of earning some semblance of appreciation from either of them.

You tilted your head gently, the scene of Atsumu thanking one of the girls with a grateful beam and Osamu dipping his head politely before taking the small package from the other girl with careful consideration playing before you. It was odd, sometimes, to be reminded that they were nearly treated like idols here at the school and on the court despite only being teenage boys the same age as you. Odd, even more, when you met Atsumu’s gaze from across the expanse between your tables and he was rising from his seat with the girl’s gift in his hand.

“Oh my god, he’s looking over here!” The younger girl whispered in a rushed manner, already smoothing over her skirt and blazer.

While the rest of the group hurriedly turned their attention back to their now empty lunches, you remained staring at him, a questioning expression twisting your face. There was no denying the slight upwards pull at one side of his mouth at your confused look as he approached you.

“Saw you starin’, did ya’ want one too?” Atsumu held the opened package out in front of you, revealing the little homemade cookies within.

You placed your fingers on the side of the box, gingerly pushing it back toward him, “No, I’m fine--they were a gift to you anyways, you shouldn’t just be passing them out.”

He gave a lazy shrug, his eyes breaking from you to scan along the rest of the girls at your table who gave their hesitant greetings to which he returned with a kind wave. 

The image of today’s previous events flashed in your mind and you shifted in your seat, fingers itching to just snap at him to kindly go fuck off somewhere else. 

“Riye’s not here.” It was less of a question than a statement from the setter as he looked back to you, an observation that anyone could make but coming from _him_ , you didn’t care to hear it.

“Obviously.” Your voice was bored, tired from today’s early start and you wanted Atsumu to just leave because you could tell everyone at your table was beginning to grow antsy with questions.

He let his head tilt absently, half-lidded eyes looking down at you, “You could’ve said so, you’re always welcome at our table, even though I’m sure ya' must be tired of having to deal with us everyday.”

“Oh, I’m just tired of having to deal with _you_ , Miya, now run back to your brother, I’ve had enough of your bullshit for one day.” Although you couldn’t see their expressions, the amount of utter shock that rippled through your peers was apparent.

He simply feigned hurt, pressing a hand to his chest where the tie he wore rested, “So harsh, y/n, I only came over here to offer you a cookie.”

“Yes, and now that you have, you can leave.” You gave a pointed stare behind him, to where the rest of the boys at the table were now watching the interesting situation pan out in front of them; you were able to catch Aran’s attention, who only muffled a laugh behind his hand at your pleading look.

But Atsumu remained standing in that spot, the glint in his eyes just coaxing you to tell him off, make a scene and gain the spotlight of the cafeteria. You simply turned your body around to face him completely, taking the toe of your shoe and prodding his shin once, pushing with enough force to back your words, “ _Go_ , Miya.”

Although his leg didn’t give an inch at your pressure, he moved on his own accord, lifting his hands in mock surrender and turning on a heel--but not before voicing his goodbyes to the other girls in an airy tone, all nonchalance and carelessness.

For the second time that day, you watched him walk off, hands in his pockets and head held high.

You were getting sick of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Never thought I'd actually start a series...I was contemplating whether I should've just made this a really long scenario since usually in the past when I've started a longer work I never finished it. BUT, when it comes to someone like Atsumu AND the reader doesn't like him there was no way that it would all fit into one decent sized chapter and not feel rushed so I figured it would be better to draw it out nice and slow and good, although I'm not sure how many chapters this is gonna end up being. I'm gonna try my best to finish and stick w this series (I may work on other things in between) for the sake of yall bc ik that when I'm reading a rlly good series and it isn't completed it absolutely sucks. I actually meant to start on this earlier but I have an important test coming up this weekend and god that's been stressing me out so I thought that I'd give yall something to read before possibly(?) not posting anything for the rest of the week, even though the chapter isn't too long in itself. As always, make sure to turn in your assignments and stop procrastinating, ik some of yall are, and make sure to drink enough water :) hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter, if you leave any comments I'll be sure to respond.  
> *on a side note I literally don't understand why when a word is italicized that it causes extra spaces btwn the surrounding characters even though it's not like that before I post it??
> 
> Other Socials  
> Tumblr: demxnscous


	2. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.. I lied--kinda. I actually wasn't planning on uploading this until Saturday after my test BUT since I've been working on this chapter all throughout the week as kind of a distraction for myself, I ended up finishing it last night. Which is actually perfect because today is the release of the second half of season 4 !! I've still gotta figure out where I'll be able to watch it though..😅

The rest of the day had ebbed to a blur, fragments of classes and assigned worksheets stitching itself together in a rendition of what you had managed to not doze off to. You were usually an excellent student, maintaining your high grades and standards if only for your parents’ satisfaction, not necessarily your own. But that’s how it’s been for a majority of your life--therefore, you were no stranger to burn-out and you had found close companionship with isolation all those years ago when it became too much.

Of course, no one knew.

Not your teachers when they prodded you awake from the cold desk top and let you off with a warning. Not your fellow peers when they sent curious glances in your direction. Not either of the coaches as they watched you teeter on the edge of unconsciousness at every morning practice, sitting in the bleachers with barely a hold on the pencil in your fingers; it had taken the sharp sounds of collision from Osamu’s spikes to reel yourself back in on one of those early trainings.

Each day seemed to web together after that, the line of distinction with every rising and falling of the sun fading to a point of unrecognition. Late nights spent completing blank assignments, analyzing the day’s notes from practice, contemplating whether you even had the energy to bathe yourself.

You recognized the impending burn-out that lingered at the edges of your thoughts, waiting for the chance to clasp its filthy jaws around you.

You decided that it could wait.

※※※

It was Friday now, and you were staring at your blunt nails.

You’d picked them all off a few nights ago during an especially frustrating literature analysis.

They looked terrible.

You shouldn’t even care.

You don’t, not really.

“Y/n.”

Riye’s sharp voice was quick to draw you from your suffocating thoughts as you looked up at her, “What?”

She shook her head, exasperation clear on her usually kind features, “Five times, y/n, it took me saying your name five times to get your attention.”

You gave a disinterested hum, nodding your head vaguely before turning to the ceramic mug that held your untouched tea. 

The café around you was quiet, its other few patrons too busy with a book or an electronic of some sort to bother filling the pleasant hush. You had always enjoyed coming here, the homeliness of the establishment, the dimmed lighting, the delightful menu items they provided to their customers--so, when Riye had suggested you accompany her to get a drink after school and before the game started, of course you had said yes. A little more caffeine couldn’t hurt based on the state you were in.

“Sorry,” one of your fingers had found the handle of the mug, pulling it towards you, “just thinking.”

“About what?” Riye had her arms braced on the table now, her own mug settled between her hands, “School? Volleyball? Sleep? God, I mean, you definitely look like you need some, so I wouldn’t blame you.”

You were too tired to throw a quick jest back, instead settling on lowering your brows in empty annoyance, “Yeah, thanks, I look terrible. Trust me, I know.”

“Well, I never said _that_ \--”

You cut her off with an obnoxiously loud sip from your tea, a hint of a smile now dancing across your lips.

Riye rolled her eyes dramatically, her short hair swaying with the movement, “How rude.”

The both of you shared muffled laughter after that, hands held over your mouths as if that was enough to contain the noise in the echoing silence. And once you’d both calmed down, Riye continued on her rambling as you nursed your drink, nodding and providing feedback every now and then to show that you were paying attention and not falling back into a reverie.

“Anyways,” Riye inhaled deeply after concluding one of her tangents, “what time did you have to be at the gym by?”

You grabbed your phone, checking the time to see that the minutes had bled by faster than you’d thought, “Actually, I think I should get going, like, right now.” Rising from the wooden chair, you set a cash tip poking from beneath a small saucer, “I don’t need either of the coaches on my ass today about being late. They’ve already been onto me about my shitty sleep schedule.”

Riye clicked her tongue, shaking her head like a disappointed mother, “Yeah, well, I don’t blame them--your sleep schedule _is_ shitty.”

Walking out of the café with Riye on your heels, you threw a dismissive wave over your shoulder, “Yes, Riye, we’ve already established the fact that I have issues.”

Your friend snorted before placing a hand on your arm, stopping you in your tracks, “Okay, but, on a more serious note--you really should give it a break.”

You turned to look at her, the tone of her voice enough to understand that she was being completely and utterly austere, “I know.” Your words were quiet as they escaped into the breeze, Riye’s deep brown eyes pinning your body to that singular spot on the gravel. You felt her manicured fingers squeeze gently before she spoke again.

“Are you gonna be okay walking back to school by yourself?”

Your eyes traveled to the receding sun in the sky above before returning back to your friend, “I should be, it’s not that far from here to the school.”

“Okay, well, text me when you get there so I know you didn’t get kidnapped or murdered or something.”

“Yes, mother, I will.”

Riye gave a light shove at your mocking retort before granting you a bright smile and walking off in the opposite direction to her house.

The trek from the café to Inarizaki was uneventful, to say the least, the only company being the crows who watched with a sinister eye on the telephone poles and the little insects that marched along the pavement at your feet. But that didn’t keep you from holding your phone in a paranoid grip, lest anything happened and the need to call Riye _would_ arise.

After crossing onto campus grounds, you made your way to the main gym, the path of it already seared into your memory from walking it all those bitter mornings and bright afternoons. The biting cold of the handle gave you a momentary shock but you slid it aside nonetheless and slipped your way into the warm gym, where the coaches could be found discussing something you couldn’t quite make out.

Once you had set your bag down beside the sideline bench, you began your monotonous tasks: retrieving the volleyball trollies from the closet and placing one at either end of the court, filling up the water bottles, gathering clean towels for the game, and preparing a clipboard for note-taking, among other things; you left the setting up of the net to the two coaches who took up the duty like clockwork. And by the time you’d finished, all of the boys had arrived and were already spread in a circle formation, if it could even be called that, to begin their stretches.

Someone called your name from across the court, tearing your attention away from the arrival of the opposing team. Turning to the source of the sound, you found Osamu sitting on the floor, beckoning you with a hand to come over--you obliged, brows beginning to furrow in worry as Osamu rarely ever needed your assistance.

“Everything okay?” You asked when you had finally reached the wing-spiker.

You didn’t miss the way his eyes panned to the side a touch too casually before returning to you, “Yeah, everything’s fine--just needed some help with stretchin’.”

Beside him, Atsumu scoffed, “When the hell did you start needin’ help with that?”

Osamu sent his brother a withering glare but said nothing, instead moving his legs to settle himself into a straddle, “Can ya’ just push me down a bit?”

You nodded your head, recognizing the stretch that he was in position for, and came around to his back. Placing both of your hands on his shoulder blades, you pressed Osamu down until he signaled to you that he was at his farthest point and held him there. Beneath your fingers, his muscles rippled with every shift of his body as he attempted to ease the uncomfortable pulling of the strain.

The feeling of someone watching you suddenly pricked at your senses.

You had an idea of who.

Keeping pressure on Osamu’s back, you lifted your gaze from your hands to the blatant suspect.

Atsumu met you with an amused expression, a brow raised in question.

“What?” Your tone was flat before taking on a more condescending one as you continued, “You need help, too?”

“If you’re offerin’, then sure.”

You eased up on Osamu’s back, allowing him to return to his previous, relaxed position before making your way to the other twin; those taunting eyes following you until you were out of view, standing behind him. Seeing Atsumu at this perspective was…strange in its own respect. You were used to his domineering stature, the way he quite literally looked down at you when he spoke, but like this--on the ground, back to you, waiting for your aid, it was nearly laughable.

Maybe you _would_ take advantage of this moment.

Bringing a knee up, you pressed it to the middle of his spine, your hands coming to rest on your hips in order to steady yourself--and before Atsumu even had the chance to voice a protest, you were already adding to the pressure, pushing him as far down as he would go without hurting him...that much.

“Ya’ couldn’t have been more gentle?” His voice sounded strained, as if he was clenching his jaw as he spoke.

You kept your knee where it was, “Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

Atsumu huffed a laugh, the sound causing his shoulders to writhe beneath you, “Didn’t realize you were such a sadist.”

“Didn’t realize you couldn’t take a little pain.”

The sound of Suna choking on a laugh, quickly covered under the rouse of a pointed cough, brought your focus away from the setter in front of you and to the middle blocker who seemed to be enjoying the entertainment, “Y’all have five minutes to finish stretching before we begin warm up drills,” you removed your knee from Atsumu’s back, directing your next words to the blond twin, “I suggest you use it wisely.”

You would have lingered around for a bit to help the others but, truth be told, you didn’t think you could stay on that court in Atsumu’s presence without snapping at someone and you would’ve felt bad for the poor bastard who caught you at the wrong moment.

Walking off the court, you headed for the sideline bench where you took up your seat again, not bothering to fix your posture as you hunched over your legs, leaning your arms on your knees, and allowed your eyes to travel to the other side of the gym. The rival school’s players were tall, lean and sharp angled in their builds and you wondered if your assumptions and analyses on the team would be enough to prove your theories correct.

God, you fucking hoped so with the amount of hours that you labored well into the night over gathering information alone.

A quick tap on your shoulder had you whipping your head up in surprise, the light touch startling you.

A sheepish giggle and you recognized Sasaki Keiko instantly, even before her next words came, “Sorry--didn’t mean to scare ya’, just thought I’d say hi before going to the stands.”

Despite not having sat with the girl and the other classmates since Monday, you told yourself that you shouldn’t be all that shocked--after all, Keiko _did_ say that she would be coming to the game.

 _For the twins_ , you recalled.

“Oh, hey Sasaki, I was wondering when you would show.” The smile that you bore was slightly forced, your words not quite sincere, but Keiko didn’t seem to notice the difference with her cheerful grin and lively eyes.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” She playfully hit your shoulder, using a graceful hand to cover that ever growing beam. 

When was the last time you’d ever smiled like that?

Your meticulously honed expression faltered for a breadth of a second at the thought and you found yourself leaning back on the balls of your feet not just at the realization but because Keiko had touched you.

It wasn’t her fault, you reminded yourself, that she didn’t know. How could she when you’ve never told her?

It wasn’t her fault, you thought, that physical touch by verging strangers made you roil in your skin.

Again, it seemed, Keiko couldn’t tell the difference in your wavering composure as you chuckled a bit awkwardly, “No, I never doubted you for a second--are the others here with you?”

Keiko nodded enthusiastically, jabbing a thumb behind her where the bleachers were beginning to fill, “Yeah, they’re somewhere at the top.”

Following Keiko’s thumb, you managed to pinpoint where the other girls were sitting, chatting and talking amongst each other. They gave you excited waves when they saw you had found them, to which you returned the gesture in a more subdued manner before turning back to Keiko, “You should probably go join them, warm-ups are going to start here pretty soon and I don’t want the coaches to get mad at you for being on the court.”

Keiko obliged with an inclination of her head and a few parting words before running off to meet up with the others.

Drills began soon after, the boys each taking their turns with the exercises until the coaches were satisfied enough to reign them back in for a pre-game discussion. It was the usual spiel of attack plans, reminders about watching specific players, and remembering the mistakes they had corrected through past practices.

Standing next to the coaches, you were silent as usual, either letting them or Kita take the lead when it came to these sorts of things--you were never one for pep talks, but that didn’t mean you failed to realize the importance of them.

A whistle was blown and both teams lined up on either side of the court for the commencement of the usual formalities. Captains shook hands, coaches exchanged wishes of good luck, a coin was flipped and it seemed the rival team would be on the receiving end.

An interesting game this would be indeed.

※※※

By now, the entire side of your palm had been smeared with graphite, your writing becoming sloppier with each touch of the volleyball on the court in front of you.

It seemed everyone was on the edge of their seat, unblinking and holding their breath; some spectators were shouting, others cheering, and one glance at the mezzanine above told you that some were grasping onto a fellow companion’s shirt or arm in unbridled suspension.

The teams had finally entered their third and final set with the opponents having taken the first and Inarizaki the second. And as of right now, Inarizaki was behind by two points; so, it wasn’t much of a surprise when the coach called for Kosaku, one of the pinch servers, to replace Atsumu.

The twin had perked up at the sharp call of the referee’s whistle, turning his attention to the sidelines where Kosaku held the number seven in his hand. Atsumu had jogged off the court at the signal, slowing in front of the other boy to take the number before situating himself beside you on the bench.

He was breathing hard--chest rising and falling in a feeble attempt to calm his thrashing heart. You wordlessly handed him a clean towel and water bottle, and Atsumu wordlessly took it from you, too busy watching the game play before him to offer anything but a brief nod as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs.

For someone who always had something to say, whether it was warranted or not, it seemed that, for once in his life, he wouldn’t be tormenting you with his sharp tongue.

That is until you shifted in your seat, trying to discreetly place more distance between the two of you at his unnerving closeness. Hell, you could feel the heat radiating from his skin even through your track jacket.

Still leaning forward, Atsumu slid his eyes to you, “What? I smell that bad?”

“Yeah, you fucking reek.” Truth be told, he didn’t, but a light bruising to Miya Atsumu's ego never hurt anybody.

He chuckled wryly, allowing his head to hang before returning his gaze back to the court, “That girl you were talkin’ to earlier--she looks familiar.”

“Maybe because you saw her on Monday when you interrupted my lunch.”

“Last I checked, it was _you_ who was starin’ in the first place.”

You rubbed a temple, though the obvious show of irritation went unseen by the setter, “Oh, give me a break, Miya, you really expect to be showered with gifts in the middle of the cafeteria and not receive some odd looks?”

Atsumu still wasn’t facing you, but the spreading crack of a smirk was apparent enough in his voice, “Jealous are we?” 

“You’re such an ass.”

At that, he finally turned to you, and it seemed that your suspicions had been right on that smirk, “Yeah, yeah--I’m just terrible, and insufferable, arrogant, egotistical, pompous, conceited, and now,” he paused for emphasis after his recitation of an abridged version of every insult you had called the setter since you’d known him, “now, I’m an _ass_.”

Your lips parted, as if to say something, but what could you say? Those had been your words echoed back through Atsumu’s mouth, and you still stood by every last one. Though, your focus hadn’t been on that, it had been on Atsumu’s tone--you couldn’t even place it if you tried.

He took your silence as an indication to continue, “When ya’ come up with some more, feel free to let me know.”

You simply just stared at him.

Your usual banters with Atsumu were by no means for fun, but rarely did it ever haze the distinction between bitter repartee and a legitimate argument.

Unsure of where, exactly, that little interaction fell, you decided you didn’t care enough to worry about it. Too drained from this arduous week, both mentally and physically, you didn’t even think you had the capacity to give a shit at this point.

“Oh, I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man I hope yall enjoyed this chapter because I sure did--as you can probably start to tell by now, I'm definitely inching my way into the relationship btwn Atsumu and the reader sooo I'm sure that yall are also aware that before anything even remotely romantic happens theres definitely gonna be a lot leading up to it.  
> As for the reader--I know I'm getting a little specific when it comes to the reader's personality and the little facets of them but I genuinely would like to see how Atsumu would handle/approach someone who is a far cry from everything he really stands for (if that makes sense?)  
> On a side note, jesUS CHRIST, idk if yall had to watch the presidential debate but I had to for an assignment and I swear to god I had to pause like every five minutes and just *breathe* bc that debate was a hot fucking mess.  
> Anyways, I hope yall have a good friday! Remember to turn in your assignments, not procrastinate, and take care of yourself :)  
> *Side note: sorry if yall were getting emails about updates from me (if you did, idk) I was just trying to fix some mistakes that I found on my previous works


	3. Chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back !!  
> Sorry this chapter is shorter than my previous ones, this past week I haven't really been feeling all that motivated to write (I've been kind of stuck in a writer's block) so I thought it'd be better to give yall a shorter chapter w better quality than a long one that was written like shit

Inarizaki had won.

Cries of triumph emanated not only from the players, but from the crowd who bustled with excitement on the bleachers and mezzanine.

Meeting at the net, the teams had shook hands in a display of good sportsmanship, the coaches following suit at the divide of the court. Though, where the opposing team was a medley of disappointed frowns and slumped shoulders, Kita and the others seemed to be high off of the win, ecstasy overriding any lingering soreness in their limbs.

Aran had slung an arm over Atsumu, pulling him in to tousle his sweat-drenched hair as the team made their way to the sidelines. The coaches wore matching, curling grins, while quiet pride seeped through your own features.

“Excellent job, boys.” It was Coach Oomi who spoke now, clasping a hand on Kita’s shoulder, although his approving words were directed towards them all.

Three simple words, a single sentence of validation in return for their labors.

You wanted to believe it to be paltry at the least, such a small reward, but you knew that the merit of their success was more than enough to satiate them. Coach Oomi, too, seemed to be well aware of this.

Patiently, you stood awaiting the coach’s signal until a nod was sent in your direction and you began reviewing the notes scrawled along the pages of your clipboard, listing off your observations respective of each member. When you finished with a tapping of your pencil, conclusively looking up from your reduction of the match, you found the team watching you with anticipation.

“And, of course,” a contented smile pulled at your lips, “y’all looked great out there--can’t say I’d wanna be managing any other team.”

At this, delighted expressions spread among the boys, though you didn’t miss the way Atsumu’s eyes narrowed in on you in an accusatory manner despite his outwardly pleased appearance.

You had almost asked him if there was something he’d like to say--almost, that is, until Akagi was reaching for you, drawing you in for a tight embrace, “Oh my god, she has feelings, I can’t believe it!” His words were thick with a teasing solace comparable to that of a thrilled parent on the verge of tears.

You laughed.

It was genuine.

The thought made you grin even wider as you patted Akagi’s back unsurely. From them, you didn’t mind the hair ruffling, the teasing remarks, the joking prods in your side, even the rare hug; you trusted them, knew that they would never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. However, that usually didn’t deter them from attempting to find loopholes by occasionally dragging you into obscene and vulgar conversations--that, or they would purposely discuss topics in your earshot that were sure to make your face flush with embarrassment.

But that’s how it's always been.

Akagi pulled away, “You comin’ with us to go out for a celebratory dinner?”

Currently in the process of tucking the clipboard into your bag, you turned back to the libero, “I’m not sure...I’m pretty exhausted from this past week--”

“Is it about the money?” Akagi’s brows were furrowed in question, the other boys hovering around with the same fervency.

“What?”

“Is money a problem?” He repeated.

“ _No_ , no, money isn’t a problem, Akagi, I’m just really tired.” For as much as you appreciated his concerns, you hated to see him make a fuss over you; the thought that it was out of pity crossed your mind, but you brushed it aside as soon as it appeared--you knew his gesture of implying to pay for your meal was simply out of kindness, nothing more, nothing less.

“Then why don’t ya’ come with us, y/n? We can even get some tea to help ya’ wake up.” 

A small sigh of exasperation and you caved in to the boy’s pleas, “Alright, fine, I’ll go.”

It was Aran’s turn to speak as he moved to stand beside you, “Good--it was either you come willingly or we dragged you along anyways.”

Shaking your head, an amused chuckle escaped you. Sometimes, when you became lost in your own solitude, buried under the weight of pressure and expectations you never dared to admit existed, it was easy to forget that these were your friends just as much as Riye.

By now, the crowd had begun to disperse, gradually filing their way out of the gym until only a few stragglers remained. Meanwhile, the boys and yourself had taken up the menial chores that came with the ending of a match, but not without a few protests from the first years that Kita was able to quell with a single look of warning.

You had been gathering your belongings when Keiko approached you, her other companions nowhere to be found.

“ _Wow_ \--what a game, right? I mean, that was incredible, I don’t know why I’ve never come to one of these before.” She was standing behind you, hands clasped politely in front of her skirt in that usual manner of hers.

Rising from the ground with your bag now slung across your shoulder, you allowed your attention to fall to the girl, “I’m glad you had fun, I’ll let the boys know what you thought.” Affording her a courteous smile, you were about to voice your farewells in an attempt to close the conversation when a large hand fell to your shoulder, searing in its touch.

“Let the boys know what?”

Of course, you knew who it was. There was no forgetting the condescending undertones that Atsumu held in his voice.

You were quick to slap away his hand, barely sparing him a glance as he took a step forward to position himself next to you.

“You’re the girl who sat with y/n at lunch on Monday, yeah? I never caught your name, sorry ‘bout that.” Atsumu rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, a bashful grin playing on his lips.

The words were leaving your mouth before you could stop them, “That’s because you never asked in the first place.” It wasn’t like you would have actually _tried_ to stop them either way.

You didn’t notice Atsumu’s hand discreetly lifting until you felt a sharp pinch at your arm.

“ _Ow!_ You fucking--” 

“I’m sorry ‘bout her, too,” he laughed, as if you weren’t seething at his side, twitching to claw at his face, “she has quite the temper, if ya’ haven’t noticed already.”

Keiko laughed along, like they were exchanging a hilarious little inside joke with one another, before she calmed her giggles and bowed her head gracefully, “I’m Sasaki Keiko, it’s nice to meet you--formally, I mean.” 

You watched as the setter returned the gesture, “Miya Atsumu.”

Keiko’s dark eyes averted to the ground shyly, her fingers playing with the edge of her skirt. Your own eyes darted between the two, brows furrowing; you knew there was a reason for Atsumu’s sudden presence, all of his movements, his gestures, his words, were never without purpose.

So, what was it?

“As much as I’d love to keep talkin’, we have to get back to the team--I’ll see ya’ around though, Sasaki,” he chirped, sending a playful wink in the other girl’s direction that caused a harsh blush to graze her face.

Atsumu absentmindedly raised an arm with the intent of pulling you along, but you ducked from his attempt, a distasteful frown tugging at your lips, “Touch me one more time, Miya, and you lose the hand.”

He turned to look at you, eyebrows slightly raised, “That a threat?”

“Consider it a promise.”

※※※

The walk to the restaurant hadn’t been long with Suna and Osamu keeping you entertained through their questionable discussions; Akagi piping in every now and then, even the quiet Ōmimi granting a few muffled snickers.

The restaurant itself was a quaint building, a family business that the team and you often visited on nights similar to this, hence the owner’s unbridled eagerness to seat you all immediately, scribbling down orders on her notepad with a pleasant beam before disappearing into the kitchens with a twirl of her apron.

You looked around, only finding a few other patrons who were enjoying their meals with either light conversation among a friend or a drink to keep them company for the night.

Too bad you couldn’t order whatever liquor the hazed man a few tables over was currently nursing.

It would’ve made your situation _much_ more tolerable.

“Pass me a napkin, will ya’?”

You slumped in your seat, continuing to use your chopsticks to pick around your steaming food, “Ask nicer and I might consider it.”

Atsumu sniffed, “No reason to get bitchy, y/n, I just asked for a napkin.”

You stilled, your chopsticks no longer picking at your meal. “Bitchy?” You repeated, blinking once, twice; a bitter laugh from you and the rest of the boys had halted their idle chatter.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Atsumu’s fingers curl under his palm on the table before he spoke, “What’s your problem with me, huh?”

 _Everything,_ you wanted to snarl in his face, wanted to make him feel the ire and venom that dripped from your tongue. Everything--though, you didn’t even know why.

There was no specific event that you could recall to blame the reason you detested Atsumu, no disastrous first impressions, no loathing argument to start it all, nothing.

And yet, you hated everything he stood for.

For a moment, you paused, a breath of hesitation as you calculated your next move: make a scene and risk getting kicked out, admit that you have aversions toward the setter and jeopardize your position as manager, or, simply, bite your tongue.

“Ya’ know what--I’ll just get it myself.” Atsumu rose slightly on his knees, reaching across you to the napkins that had been placed at the center of the table.

If only he would’ve taken note of your drink, placed so precariously in its water-ringed spot, as the fabric of his jacket brushed against the glass, the pressure from his arm tilting it past the point of saving.

You watched it land in your lap.

Ice and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my gOD could this week pass by any slower... bc I tend to enjoy oversharing with yall, just bear w me cause I have a lot.  
> First off--my lovely little test. I think its safe to say to never assume things kids :D cause let me tell you, I walked into the room fully expecting for calculators to be provided for the test (bc thats what happened the first time I took the test) and they weren't! Surprise! Anyways, I guess I can consider myself lucky bc the calculator wasn't exactly necessary, just a luxury, and I was able to take the calculator portion of the test just fine w/o it.  
> Then on monday I was scrolling through tiktok and I saw that this person had an etsy shop where she sold senior portraits of the hq boys in honor of hq coming to an end and when I tell you I was screaming--I was screaming (muffling it ofc, my sister was still sleeping and it was early in the morning). Usually I'm not one for impulse buys but fuck it Im literally so happy that I bought one (I got the sakusa one bc i love that anti-social boy and the artist rlly did him justice oh my god) and it should be coming in at the end of the month :) I'll definitely be purchasing a Suna one when the artist restocks on Oct. 30th.  
> Besides that, school has been ~rough~ bc now that the grading period is coming to an end, all of my teachers are shoving assignments down our throats trying to get their grades in before their time is up. I also had to have a phone call meeting w my counsel about my ✨future✨ and all that good stuff. On a side note, got my transcript today and am VERY pleased with my ranking like wow how the hell did my depressed ass do that??  
> Anyways--I hope yall enjoyed the chapter ! as always, be sure to take care of yourself, drink enough water, and don't procrastinate


	4. Chapter IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short (again) it's only around 2,100 ish words--I've been wanting to write a longer chapter but with school and my little side job and the fact that naps are not optional (and I don't always feel motivated to write), writing a longer chapter (say like 5,000-6,000 words) would take me a bit more time between updates so w that being said, if there's more time btwn updates than usual either I'm writing yall a long ass chapter or I'm very busy 😅  
> Hope yall enjoy it!

The silence was deafening.

There was no mistaking the stares that lingered in your direction, snagging like a nail on loose thread. Atsumu’s muscles had visibly tensed, his body frigid as a long-fingered hand remained poised above the table, faltering in its fruitless endeavor for a damn napkin.

You felt the cold tea seep through your clothing, darkening the red track pants to a deep crimson.

“Oh shit.” The barely audible words had come from Osamu who was sitting across from you, equally stunned, leaning forward as if he had the intentions of helping but found his body to be just as uncooperative as his twin’s.

“You have got--,” you inhaled sharply through your nose, letting the rest of your sentence fall on a breath, “--to be fucking kidding me.”

You gingerly picked up the wet glass from your lap, placing it on the table. Sitting to your right, Kita was already plucking napkins from the dispenser, handing them to you with a mildly startled expression. Taking the napkins from him with a tight, but appreciative, smile, you set them on the soaked portion of your pants, dabbing at the liquid as you watched the brown tea soak into the pure white of the soft paper.

Atsumu was stumbling for coherency, glancing around to his teammates for some semblance of what to do as you continued to wordlessly dry the stain.

“I--”

“Say a single word, Miya, just one, and see what happens.”

The setter lowered himself to his seat once again, jaw clenching. Why weren’t you screaming at him? Raging, sneering, hissing in his face? Where was the curled lip of disgust, the fingers longing to wrap themselves around the column of his neck?

Somehow, this was much worse.

Slowly, you set the clump of dampened napkins on the table, “I think I’m gonna head home.” Your voice was hollow, blunt in every word you spoke. The boys watched as you pulled a wallet from your bag, drawing out a bill before handing it to Kita, “That should be enough to cover it when the tab comes.” Rising from your seat, you glanced down to the captain who was eyeing you concerningly, yet you said nothing as you shouldered your bag and walked out of the restaurant.

The piercing cold billowed around you in a harsh breeze as you stepped outside, causing a shiver to run its way through your body. It was nearly dark, the sky a deep navy; you knew it wasn’t smart to go walking alone at night, knew the dangers that curled within the shadows, but what the hell were you supposed to do? Call your parents with the pitiful excuse that your pride would never allow you to walk back in that restaurant and ask for one of the boys to take you home? Call Riye and endure the endless teasing once you told her why, exactly, she had needed to come in the first place?

Behind you, the door to the restaurant opened and closed with a condemning click.

“Y/n.”

You didn’t turn to look at Atsumu, merely tilting your head up as if you had vested your interest in the stars above, “Yes?”

Gravel crunched beneath his shoes, “What, you can’t even look me in the eye now?” He knew he shouldn’t have said it, that it should’ve been an apology falling from his lips instead.

“I didn’t know you cared so much about whether I’m looking at you or not.” You exhaled deeply, turning over a shoulder before shoving your hands in your pockets, “But, I guess it makes sense. Miya Atsumu--always vying for the center of attention.”

He opened his mouth as if to speak, that carved face contorting resentfully, though you were quicker to the cut.

“What now, Miya? You have my undivided attention, so _what now?_ ”

“What now?” He echoed, taking a step toward you, “What now, huh?” Atsumu barely caught the way your eyes narrowed in the shadows that splayed across your features, “How about ya’ tell me why you’ve had a stick up your ass this entire week.” Your lips parted and he took another step, “No--why don’t ya’ tell me why you’ve had a stick up your ass since you’ve _known_ me?”

Your hands clenched dangerously in their pockets, nails digging into skin, “I don’t want to have this conversation right now.”

“Then _when_ , y/n?” Atsumu’s voice had begun to rise, “When are we gonna talk about this? ‘Cause now is as good a time as ever.”

You were tired, you were so fucking tired and all you wanted to do was go back home and sleep through the weekend. Why couldn’t he just drop it? Why did he even bother to come out here in the first place if he only intended to have a fucking argument? Why won’t he just leave you _alone?_ Why--

Your hand had slid from its pocket, now rubbing at a temple as a caustic laugh slipped from your throat, “You know what, Miya? I don’t care. I don’t give a _shit_ about you or whatever the fuck you think we need to talk about because _I don’t care_.”

※※※

“Should we, uh, should we do somethin’ about them?”

Kita continued to peer out of the blinds of the restaurant window, where the team had gathered to watch Atsumu and you, before responding to Akagi, “I’m not sure...it might just be best to let ‘em talk it out.”

“I don’t think I’d consider that ‘talkin’.” Osamu mumbled whilst sneaking a glance outside from his own section of blinds.

Suna shifted to get a better view, “Yeah, they both look pretty pissed.”

“Do ya’ think they’d be even more pissed if they knew we were spyin’ on them?” Akagi had whispered, as if any remotely loud noise would be audible outside of the restaurant where you and the setter were currently bickering.

“Are you stupid? Of course they would be,” Aran hissed as he adjusted his own position.

Behind them, the owner had quirked a brow when she returned from the kitchens with a few drinks for the other guests, but decided to not question the strange scene as she turned a blind eye rather than endure an awkward conversation with the team.

“Is she…?” Suna had trailed off, all of the boys watching in muted shock as you _laughed._

They saw the cruel expression you wore, molded from exasperation and fury, as you massaged a temple before speaking. And despite barely being able to hear your words, your evident sneer was enough for them to realize that this needed to be stopped.

Right now.

※※※

He was so close.

So close and yet neither of you made to move.

You noticed his nostrils gently flaring, eyes burning into yours, just taunting you to look away and back down, demanding you to give in.

As if you would ever fucking do that.

“Okay, that’s enough--both of you.”

You shouldn’t have been all that surprised at the emergence of Kita’s impassive voice, the captain coming to stand behind Atsumu with his arms folded across his chest. The setter remained in his stance, as did you.

“He said--,” Osamu was closing the distance between him and his brother, hand quickly grasping at the back of Atsumu’s collar and pulling him aside roughly, “ _\--That’s enough_.” Atsumu broke your gaze, if only to glare at his brother who was now releasing him with a chiding click of his tongue.

“Y/n?” 

Too preoccupied in the hushed arguments of the twins off to the side, you hadn’t noticed Kita next to you until he spoke your name. You turned to the captain, your face wholly blank.

Like a switch had been flipped.

“Do you need someone to take you home?”

 _Yes_ , you thought, _take me home. Take me home where I can spend the weekend drowning myself in stress, alone--unbothered. Take me home just so that I can leave again come Monday and do this over and over and over until one day it finally fucking stops._

You managed a vague nod.

Kita placed a hesitant hand on your shoulder, offering you a reassuring smile before turning on a heel to speak with Osamu, away from the scowling setter and yourself.

You tilted your head up to the sky once again. Someone was watching you. You hated that you knew who it was.

“Oi.” Osamu was making his way toward you, gesturing with a hand for you to follow him out of the restaurant parking lot; you obliged. 

What other option did you have?

You walked in a comfortable silence with the grey-haired twin, keeping pace with his long strides that he slowed for your sake. And it was like that for nearly the entire time, with the exception of a few of your directions, until you had reached the street in which your house was on.

“Can I ask what happened out there?” Osamu was the first to break the unspoken tension.

“Just an argument.”

“Didn’t look like it.”

“You were watching?” It was a genuine question--you’d been under the impression that the rest of the team had only caught what Kita had put an end to. But you knew how they were, sticking their noses in places they didn’t belong.

“Yeah...sorry.”

You laughed quietly, though it sounded pitiful to your ears, “Don’t be--it’s fine.”

“I’m gonna take a guess and say that he didn’t just apologize and shut his trap like he should’ve?”

You were walking up the path to your door now, “Something like that.” Of course, you hadn’t forgotten about your damp track pants with the cold causing the fabric to stick to your skin uncomfortably.

Standing in front of your door, you shifted on your feet, “Well, thanks for walking me home, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

When Osamu wavered, hand coming up to rub along his jaw, you paused with your fingers wrapped around the doorknob, glancing over your shoulder to the twin, “Something wrong?”

He shook his head, “No, I just--nothin’, y/n, it’s nothin’. I’ll see you later.”

For some reason, you found it hard to turn the knob as you passed through the threshold of your home.

※※※

When Osamu had sauntered into the kitchen after his tense walk with you, the last person who he wanted to see was his brother.

“So,” Osamu began, pouring himself a glass of water, “what happened back at the restaurant?”

“None of your damn concern.” Atsumu had been sitting at the table, peeling an apple with a small knife.

“When Kita came out to stop whatever was goin’ on, you were inches away from her. What--were you plannin’ on killin’ her?

“Thought about it.”

Osamu scoffed, “Yeah, I’m sure the thought crossed her mind, too.”

Setting the paring knife down, Atsumu took a bite of the sweet fruit, “You have fun on your little walk with her?”

The other twin leaned against the counter, brows furrowing, “The hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Ya’ know--your _walk_ , where I’m sure she just spilled her heart to ya’ didn’t she? The knight in shining armor come to save her from his fuckin’ brother.” 

Osamu’s mouth twisted into something of distaste; he didn’t understand what his brother was talking about, but he was curious as to where this would go if he simply let Atsumu ramble.

And it seemed to be working.

“You kiss her goodnight, too? Tuck her in and wish her sweet dreams?” Atsumu took another bite, leaning back in his chair. “God, I bet ya’ just want to get in her pants--fuck her senseless and then ditch. That’s why ya’ took her home, right? To fuck the manager?”

Besides the fact that Osamu had very nearly choked on his water, it was taking every fiber of his restraint to not strangle his twin, “ _No,_ you dick.”

“Then _why?_ ” Atsumu snapped back, his earlier rage limning his features once again.

Truth be told, Kita had asked him to take you home, that way Kita could talk to Atsumu alone and then maybe you would open to him on the walk of just the two of you about what was going on between you and his brother. 

But you hadn’t.

“That’s none of your damn concern.” Osamu mocked his brother’s previous words, a mischievous grin playing on his face. He drank the rest of the water, setting the glass down in the sink, “Careful, ‘Tsumu, your real emotions are showin’--try not to strain a muscle, I know this is hard for ya’.”

Osamu had to dodge the apple core that Atsumu chucked at his head.

At least it wasn’t the knife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say...I ~love~ writing argument/anger scenes (I always write to get out any strong emotions so this is like letting out any pent up anger or stress that I've amassed over the month in the form of a lovely little story that you all seem to enjoy). I love it I love it I love it. So, naturally, this is probably my favorite chapter so far in the story
> 
> Anyways, here's your daily dose of oversharing bc I'm probably too comfortable on here:  
> Uh, so, I told my very witchy/spiritual friend about a sleep paralysis episode that happened to me yesterday morning and now she's convinced that I have a demon/ghost infestation. So..I have that going for me :D I'm not even one to read into that kind of stuff for my own sanity bc then I just get paranoid and creeped out; don't get me wrong, it's interesting, and maybe there is more than meets the eye (there probably is) but I like to feel safe in my home and in this case, ignorance is bliss 
> 
> On a lighter note, I'm so glad it's friday I thought this week would never come to an end--that, and there should be another episode coming out today? I think?
> 
> As always, I hope yall enjoyed reading it as much I did writing it :) make sure you drink enough water, take care of yourselves, and don't procrastinate your assignments!  
> *Also wow this story has gained a bunch of hits in such little time, I guess it makes sense since Atsumu is appearing more in the anime and probably gaining more relevancy than he had before (looks like that marketing class did come in handy after all)


	5. Chapter V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It honestly feels like it's been forever since I've updated this, but it's literally just been four days.  
> It's been a long four days...

“Pay up.”

Akagi grumbled irritably as he pulled a wrinkled bill from his pocket and slapped it in Suna’s awaiting hand, a smug grin playing on the middle blocker’s foxlike face as he stuffed the money in his track jacket.

Ginjima cocked his head in question at the two, continuing his amble stroll among the rest of the team after having taken their leave from the restaurant a few minutes following the exits of the twins and yourself, “Am I missing somethin’ here or are y’all makin’ bets again?”

“Yeah--bets that I keep losin’,” the libero huffed, sending a scowl in Suna’s direction who paid no attention to his carping teammate. 

Aran peered over the top of Kita’s head to where the others were chattering, only having heard the tail end of the conversation, “Bets on what?”

It was Suna who responded, his voice nothing but uninterested, “Akagi and I made a bet on how long Atsumu and y/n could last at dinner without one of them goin' at the other’s throat--I said twenty minutes, he said thirty.” Suna paused, slender eyes dancing with veiled pride, “It lasted for a grand total of twenty-two minutes and thirty-eight point four seconds. I even got a video.”

On the outskirts of the group, Ōmimi’s lips thinned, subtly shaking his head in exasperation; beside him, Riseki adjusted the strap of his sports bag before piping up from his own lapse of silence, “Has it...has it always been like this between them?”

“As far as I can remember--,” the boys quieted at the sound of their captain’s voice, the first time he’d spoken since Atsumu had stormed off from their private conversation back in the parking lot, though Kita’s eyes focused on the skyline ahead as he continued, “--yes.”

  
※※※

He should’ve thrown the knife instead.

Maybe then he wouldn’t have had to listen to the crowing teases of his damn brother as he stalked to his room, shutting the door roughly behind him and earning a displeased shout from his mother somewhere in the house. 

Tonight had been a fucking mess--more so than usual when it came to you.

Atsumu ran an aggravated hand through his hair, letting his fingers tighten around the strands as he tried to even out his breathing with the argument playing on a loop in his mind--over and over and over again, your voice seething in his head. And your words…your words had fucking _hurt_ and he didn’t understand why. He had gotten used to it by now, hell he should’ve been immune at this point to your scathing counters, yet here he was: hunched over on the edge of his bed, infuriated.

Unnerved may have been a better word for it, but he would never voice that aloud...that you were able to do this to him.

But since _when?_ Since when had he taken your retaliations seriously?

He hated it.

And maybe he hated you for it.

A chiming from his phone immediately shattered the thoughts he had so delicately spun, causing his head to snap up. Atsumu grabbed the device from its careless position on the comforter, and when he read the notification that appeared on the bright screen, he didn’t know whether to laugh or suffocate himself in the plush pillows.

Oh, what a perfect little distraction this would be though.

※※※

Friday night, you had barely slept. 

Saturday passed with assignments and monotonous chores.

Sunday morning came and went, leaving you scrolling on your phone well into the afternoon. That is, until you were interrupted with a call from Riye.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“You would not believe what I’m seeing right now.” There was a hint of laughter in your friend’s tone, her volume hushed as if she was worried that a passerby might be eavesdropping.

You sat up straighter in bed, “And what would that be?”

On Riye’s end of the phone, idle background noise filtered through before she spoke again, “Atsumu’s here--at the market.”

Out of habit, your fingers pinched at the bridge of your nose, preparing for the headache that usually came when Atsumu was brought up in conversation, “Okay…?”

“He’s with that Sasaki girl.”

“Huh. Is that all?” Briefly, you recalled the way he had pushed himself into the conversation between Keiko and you after the game on Friday, the way he had asked for her name and winked his goodbyes before ushering you along.

“Wha--what do you mean ‘ _i_ _s that all_ ’?” Riye hissed into the phone, blatantly displeased with your lack of a reaction.

Your face twisted in confusion, not quite understanding what she had been expecting as a response, “Am I supposed to be surprised? Riye--Miya talks to plenty of girls, he has a literal variety to choose from if he so wanted to. He has a _fan-club_ for fuck’s sake, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Atsumu doesn’t take a lot of girls on dates, y/n.” She quipped matter-of-factly, as if this was common knowledge among the two of you and, well, it kind of was.

“Who says it’s a date?” 

“Well, he _does_ have an arm around her waist.”

If this conversation didn’t end soon, you were sure that that headache would quickly become a full-blown migraine, “Remind me again why you called me about _this_ of all things?”

There was a beat of silence, as if Riye was contemplating her next words, “So, you don’t think that’s weird? That, out of nowhere, he’s now taking Sasaki out on a little date to the market?”

“Riye,” you began slowly, speaking as though you were trying to convey your message to a toddler, “last I checked, I don’t keep goddamn tabs on his love life and I don’t plan on it. If you haven’t noticed--we’re not exactly friends, in fact we even got into a lovely argument Friday night and, no, I don’t really want to talk about it. I don’t care what he does on his time off from volleyball and school, I don’t care what girls he is or isn’t talking to, I don’t care about _him_.” At your final word, you winced, steading yourself, “Sorry…didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” No, you hadn’t meant for it to come out as if you were right back in that parking lot, toe to toe with the setter, biting out a nearly mirrored response.

Riye sighed into the receiver, though not out of irritation, “No, no, I get it--you hate his guts--but, remind me again, why that is?”

You almost scoffed at the way Riye held a knowing lilt in her voice, tossing your words back in your face, “I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Don’t avoid the question you c--”

A press of a button and the line went dead.

  
※※※

Twirling the pencil in your hands, you waited for the boys to finish their stretches and warm-up drills before the Monday afternoon practice could commence. And once it began with a shrill blow of Coach Oomi’s whistle, the sounds of colliding volleyballs and rubber shoes against polished floors filled the surrounding air.

Glancing up from your clipboard periodically, you surveyed the boys, scrutinizing their technical executions and jotting down notes when necessary. Everyone seemed to be playing fairly well, that is, everyone except for--

“Atsumu! What did I say about attemptin’ sets like that?” Coach Oomi shouted from across the gym.

Your eyes traveled to the setter who merely clenched his jaw and provided a terse nod in the direction of the coach. As for Osamu and Aran--they were currently stifling their laughter at Atsumu’s reprimanding, mouths quivering with repressed grins.

“Do it again!” And as if the slight had never occurred, the boys took up position once more to repeat the play at their Coach’s order. Though, it wasn’t until they were dripping with sweat, hands braced on padded knees, trying to catch their breath, that they were granted a break an hour later.

You distributed water bottles and clean towels with ease, almost rhythmically, when they trudged off the court and to the sidelines, each of them giving you either a nod of appreciation or a fatigued 'thanks'. Granted, the niceties ceased when you found Atsumu waiting in front of you--and it seemed the game had commenced once again: his condescending gaze challenging your unyielding one.

You were no stranger to the game of who would look away first, it had always been an unspoken defiance, even before last Friday night, that either one of you would initiate to goad the other.

But this…this was different. _He_ was different; where the usual smugness could be found lacing his pupils, there was something much…darker, abysmally deeper than before.

Continuing to level your stare up at the setter, you handed him the water bottle and accompanying towel, placing them in his hands as you felt calloused fingertips brush your own. You pulled back steadily, allowing your arms to fold themselves over your chest, lest he realize that the brief touch had set you on edge almost instantaneously. And when he turned to walk off, you didn’t miss the way his eyes clung to you for a moment too long before tearing away, his steps already aiming to where his brother was resting on the bleachers.

And maybe, Atsumu couldn’t help but think, maybe he should’ve said something then.

Maybe he should’ve apologized like Kita had advised him to do back at the restaurant before he found himself latching onto the figures of his brother and you leaving together. Frankly, he hadn’t been paying much attention to his captain after that.

But by the way your quiet smile had been forgotten the moment he’d stepped into your line of sight, he’d decided that the last thing he wanted was a rehash of your previous argument. Maybe that was for the best--especially when you narrowed your eyes at him, managing to stare down your nose as if he wasn’t the one looming above you.

God, there was so many fucking maybe’s when it came to you.

Maybe you truly did hate him now, if you hadn’t already before. Maybe you were just waiting for when you could finally smother him in his sleep, stab him, strangle him, drown him--honestly, he wouldn’t put it past you to already have a multi-step plan on how you were going to make him disappear for good. 

Maybe you had meant everything you’d spat in his face three days ago.

Maybe…maybe this was all his fault. 

He’d blamed you for his frustration after the tense conversation with his brother; he’d blamed you for making him feel that way. But who was to blame for the way _you_ had lashed out? Who was the root cause of every sneer, every glare, every gritted word between your clenched teeth?

You.

It had to be you.

Because it couldn’t be him.

It _can’t_ be him.

Don’t you know that he only teases you to rile you up? To poke fun at you? To make his day just a little more interesting when things get too stale?

Don’t you realize this is all just a big game? 

You do, don’t you?

Don’t you?

“Oi.” Osamu gave his brother a light shove, “Somethin’ wrong?”

Atsumu absently rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, playing with the neckline of the damp t-shirt where the tag had been sewn in, “No, ‘m good.”

Taking a long draw from the water bottle, Osamu sent his brother a doubtful glance, brows furrowing with the expression.

The rest of practice was just as exhaustive, if not more. His body already ached with the impending soreness that he knew would leave him stiff in bed by tomorrow morning, but any thoughts of soaking in a calming bath while Osamu would pester him to hurry up were quickly diffused at the sudden call of his name.

Atsumu discarded the stray volleyball he had been in the midst of picking up into a nearby trolley and hastened his pace toward Coach Oomi’s office, where the man was sticking his head around the door with a scowl.

“Yes, sir?”

His coach looked him over once with evident consideration before pushing the door farther open and retreating back to his desk. Atsumu heeded the silent demand and followed the man into the quaint office, shutting the door gently behind him.

“Have a seat, Atsumu.” Coach Oomi gestured to the vacant chair on the opposite side of his desk.

Again, he did as told.

His hands clenched and unclenched beneath the desk on his lap with a cacophony of reasons echoing in his thoughts as to why he was sitting in the Coach’s office and not already halfway home kicking chips of concrete across the sidewalk alongside his brother.

Did he find out about what happened between him and you?

Was it his performance today?

Was it you? Had _you_ said something that brought on this impromptu meeting?

The questions didn’t stop hounding away, not until Coach Oomi had finally halted his typing on the noisy keyboard to look up at him.

“Your grades are slippin’.”

Oh.

So, it was that.

He voiced as much, “I wasn’t aware I was failin’, sir.”

“You’re not--at least not yet. You’re barely passin’ one of your classes and the rest of your grades are subpar.”

Atsumu had to restrain a wince; he had never been an academically inclined student, never one who held an intent on maintaining high grades and climbing the class ranks, but hearing his obvious lacking spoken aloud was...embarrassing. 

Coach Oomi took Atsumu’s silence as a sign to continue, “I do hope you realize that nationals are right around the corner, and they’ll be here before ya’ know it. I can’t have my setter teetering on the brink of eligibility.”

He nodded, sucking on his tongue as it ran along the edges of his teeth.

“I can recommend ya’ someone to help bring your grades up, if you’d like?”

The setter perked up curiously, knowing that he likely needed all the aid he could get, he was almost desperate, “Who?”

Coach Oomi pursed his lips, clicking something with his mouse and turning around to snatch a newly inked sheet of paper from the printer, “Y/n.”

He swallowed--thickly.

Maybe he wasn’t _that_ desperate.

The man slid the paper across the desk and Atsumu had to pin it with a hand to keep it from sliding off. It was a report of his grades.

“Sir...y/n n’ I don’t exactly…”

“Get along?” Coach Oomi finished for him, chuckling dryly, “You think I haven’t noticed? It would take an idiot not to.” 

Atsumu folded the report in half, jaw clenched as his fingers danced along the newly formed crease.

Coach Oomi sighed, scratching at the stubble peppering his neck and jaw, “I heard about what happened--”

Atsumu’s head snapped up, brown eyes widening ever so slightly as his grip on the paper tightened imperceptibly.

“--but I didn’t bring ya’ here to talk about that. I understand that your relationship with her is tense, but consider this an opportunity to try and smooth things out; and, of course, to fix your damn grades.”

“She would never help--”

He cut Atsumu off with a dismissive wave of his hand, “Grovel at her feet for all I care, get on your knees and beg her to help ya’ if that’s what it takes, but _get your grades up_. I don’t really care if you go to her or someone else, I don’t care if you end up nearly killin’ each other; all I care about is not havin' to worry about benchin’ you when we’re playing at the gym in Tokyo.”

Atsumu glanced over a shoulder to the tiny window in the door, to you, tossing a volleyball with Osamu out in the gym who had most likely stayed behind waiting for him and found company in your presence.

Like hell he would ever get on his knees for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My god am I sooo glad to have finally posted this--I've been working on this chapter in bits and pieces throughout these last few days and to be honest, I almost scrapped it. Well, I almost scrapped the entire part of the phone call btwn Riye and the reader but then decided against it bc it took me damn near long enough to even think of SOMETHING to come after the first scene where we get the perspectives of the other boys. Although I am pretty happy with how the chapter turned out in the end ;)
> 
> Speaking of perspectives! As you can probably tell this chapter has more of Atsumu's perspective bc I thought it was high time we take a dive into that idiot's head and see what's going on and boy am I actually really happy with the scene where he's questioning himself but the questions are directed towards the reader??? Wow, just--yeah, had to sit at my laptop and reread my work like five times before I moved on I'm not even gonna lie, please i swear I'm not being cocky I just was so proud of that🤧
> 
> Anywayyysss, for your daily dose of oversharing on the internet with strangers (but some of yall I immediately recognize the username bc I talk to yall a lot and I like to think we have a nice little bond going on😂) who I feel too comfortable around: honestly, nothing much has been happening. Just school. That's it. Oh wait school and scholarships and stress, the 3 fucking S's. The only thing keeping me going through the weeks is the fact that a new episode of season 4 gets released every friday and I'm getting a senior portrait of Sakusa sometime at the end of the month :D yeah.... 
> 
> As always, I hope yall enjoyed this chapter :) and remember to take care of yourselves, eat enough food, drink enough water, and try not to procrastinate your assignments--you've got this I believe in you ❤


	6. Chapter VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM BACK MWAHAHAHAHA

The paper was a weight in his hand as he left Coach Oomi’s office; a reminder that there were some problems he couldn’t afford the luxury of brushing aside with a charming smile or a string of persuasive words.

That’s not to say he couldn’t _try_ , though he doubted he would get very far.

“Took ya’ long enough.” Osamu caught the ball that you volleyed toward him, tucking it into his side as his focus shifted from you to his brother, whose posture had seemingly stiffened when you turned to look at the approaching twin.

Your gazes met briefly, his intrigued expression in stark contrast with your terribly indifferent one, before you voiced a goodbye to the grey-haired twin and slipped your bag around a shoulder, happily making your way out of the gym to evade the other.

At the very least, Atsumu had been preparing for a taunting scoff; at the worst, another sharp exchange of words.

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or unnerved that neither of his assumptions had rang true.

Yet, for as long as you’ve held the position of manager since your first year, Atsumu liked to think he could read you as easily as the back of his own hand, guess your next move in the blink of an eye. And, for the most part, he was usually correct in his inferences.

Usually… 

Because, unbeknownst to the setter, you were more than well aware of his constant analyzing--the way he adjusted his tone, his words, even his stance, based on your dispositions throughout the day. Not for your own comfort, of course, but to predict which buttons he could push without crossing that unspoken boundary.

And sometimes you enjoyed fucking with him, too. Laughing at one his teasing jokes, only to wipe away a nonexistent tear and pat his cheek like a child, cooing on about how you thought it was genuinely comedic that he believed himself to be funny; or, simply asking him to repeat something when he was speaking to you, pretending as if you hadn’t heard him the first five times. Nothing overtly petty, but just enough to throw the boy for a loop and leave him frowning in your wake.

Your infuriatingly casual exit had done just that.

“What’s this?” Osamu reached for the folded document, plucking it with ease from his brother’s slack hand before opening it, “Huh…and here I thought ya’ couldn’t get any dumber…” His eyes trailed along the listed grades, face twisting into a grimace the more he read.

Atsumu snatched the report back, hurriedly crossing the distance to where he had abandoned his duffel in the bleachers.

“You gonna tell me what happened in there or do I have to guess?”

“Coach wants me to get my grades up.” Atsumu was headed for the doors now, sliding them open to the chilly air while Osamu trailed behind at a leisurely pace.

“Yeah? And how the hell’re you gonna pull that off?”

The blond twin huffed a breath, letting it cloud in his face, “I don’t know.” 

“Sounds like you’re pretty screwed to me,” Osamu hummed in disinterest.

With his index finger drumming on the strap of the duffel, Atsumu mulled over his next words, watching his feet guide themselves over the gravel as he spoke, “Coach said that I should ask y/n.”

At this, Osamu’s brows knit together in thought, “She’d never help you--”

“That’s what _I_ said, but--”

Flicking his brother on the back of the head to quiet him, Osamu continued, “You know damn well it’s ‘cause you’ve been an _asshole_ this past week to her; of course she’d say no, ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu rubbed at the dull ache induced by his brother, sending him a glowering stare over a shoulder, “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Apologize, for one.”

He turned back around, nose sniffling from the cold, “Yeah, whatever.”

※※※

“You think my parents would kill me if I dropped out?”

With a fist cradling your cheek, elbow braced on the cold desk, you looked up at Riye who was currently sulking at the nearly failing mark written across her testing sheet from a previous class, “Probably--but it’d be in your best interest to hope for a quick death.”

“You’re not helping.”

Shrugging, you spoke around a mouthful of rice, “Never said I was.”

Riye groaned, throwing her head back dramatically, which earned a few odd glances from the handful of other students who had also stayed in the classroom to eat their lunches.

“It’s one grade, Riye, you still have time to make up for it, so don’t dwell on it too much.” Knowing your friend, you’d learned over the years that pitying attempts to console would only worsen the degree of the situation; though, reasonable logic and a calm manner seemed to do the trick more often than not.

You watched as Riye returned to her own lunch, grumbling on about something you weren’t exactly paying attention to as you continued to eat, bringing a piece of beef to your open mouth before your arm halted entirely.

Across the room, Atsumu had slipped his way through the door, his eyes immediately finding yours. And where that usual accompanying smirk would paint itself, there was nothing but a sullen line, jaw blatantly clenched.

You snapped your mouth shut, slowly setting the food and chopsticks down as his gaze locked with yours, only looking away to weave through the rows of desks with such an intent that left you unconsciously leaning back in your chair, as if you could widen the distance between yourself and the setter to make a run for it.

And with the way that he was focusing at you, the thought _did_ cross your mind; along with the urging question of why the hell he was here in the first place.

“Can we talk?”

At the sound of Atsumu’s voice, Riye’s eyebrows raised painfully so, her widened umber eyes darting from you to the twin in frantic motions.

Your own eyes faintly narrowed on instinct, and you knew he was quick to catch the movement, “What about?” There was no point in playing the trivial game of beating around the bush--you were too tired, tired of this, tired of _him_. It seemed that was one thing that hadn’t changed.

“Privately.” He gave a curt smile that was meant to soothe the cutting edge of his words, though it did anything but.

And if Riye’s little show of frustration had been enough to garner the curious side eyes of your fellow peers, _this_ was far worse.

“Why? So you can go strangle me in some dark corner where no one will see?” Your light laughter that followed was humorless, empty, as you steadied your forearms on the desktop, leaning forward with an equally falsified smile, “Is that it, Miya? Finally come to end it once and for all?”

By now, any surrounding conversations had dimmed to hushed whispers.

Atsumu ran a hand through his dyed hair, letting his head tilt back lazily; and although his fingers itched to just drag you out of your chair and to someplace more secluded for the sake of his time and patience, he would never lay a hand on you--never touch you in a way that defied your limits. Because for all of the teasing hair tousles, for the times that he would dangle an object out of reach, for the moments when you seemed like a perfect armrest, Atsumu knew when it was enough. He knew when to stop.

“Y/n.”

At his tone, indiscernible between that of a warning or a plea, your mocking grin lowered, “Fine.” You paid Atsumu no heed as you rose from the desk, sidling between him and an abandoned chair that was currently blocking your path. But when the setter’s firm abdomen ghosted across your back in a fleeting touch, your muscles visibly tensed and you regretted not allowing him the chance to move beforehand.

Atsumu noticed--of course, he noticed. 

And he found himself wondering, as he followed you out of the classroom and down the hall, if he truly was that unbearable to you; unbearable to be in the vicinity of, unbearable to even _touch_.

It shouldn’t bother him.

It did.

“So, where’d you wanna talk?”

Atsumu glanced around the empty halls, hands finding their way into the pockets of his slacks, “Let’s just keep walkin’.” _Because I don’t think I can sit still and look you in the eye long enough to say this_ , is what he didn’t tell you.

Quickening your pace to catch up to his, you sighed gently, “Then can you slow down? I can’t keep up with you.”

Under different circumstances, he would have laughed, cracked a joke that involved your height, or lack thereof compared to him, before taking even longer strides just to piss you off. Instead, he slowed his steps, granting you a slight turn of his head to make sure you had caught up with him.

The gesture didn’t go unseen by you and it took everything in your being to not simply balk at the boy by your side. Because whatever grave thought that weighed on his mind enough to null his habitual antics couldn’t mean anything good for the conversation that was about to take place.

From your peripheral, you glimpsed Atsumu inhaling an uncertain breath, his chest rising and falling before his voice broke the cadence of your shoes clicking on the tile along with his.

“I’m sorry--for what happened at the restaurant. I was meanin’ to apologize when I followed you out, but…” _But ya’ wouldn’t even fuckin’ look at me._

“But?” Truly, no words could convey the emotions winding through your thoughts at his reluctant declaration. It was simply...blank, unfinished as much as Atsumu’s sentence. 

The setter tugged at the tie wrapped around his neck, loosening it in a few subtle pulls, “I don’t know, y/n, I’m just--I’m sorry, alright?” 

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, nodding absently as you both turned a corner, “So, that’s it?”

Atsumu nearly whirled on you, faltering to a stop, “The hell do you mean ‘ _that’s it_ ’?”

“Well, you storm into my classroom, ruin my lunch, pretty much cause a scene, ask to talk somewhere else--all of that, just to apologize? I mean, shit, Miya, I knew you could be dramatic, but you could’ve just said your usual half-assed ‘sorry’ and then went about your day like you always do on the rare occasion that you actually apologize.” You continued your path down the hall, leaving Atsumu to saunter up next to you as he closed the separation you had created from his brief pause. A breadth of silence passed in expectance of what came next from you, “Didn’t think you cared that much.”

It was salt in the wound.

And what a deep wound it had become.

An insignificant cut pried and mutilated by the repetitive pattern of your miffed words until it ripped farther and farther apart.

When Atsumu stopped this time, he made sure you did the same as he wrapped a hand around your wrist, letting your own momentum betray you by refusing to allow you even an inch of slack in his grip, “Is that what you think of me?”

The first coherent thought you were able to grasp was the feeling of his calloused hands on your skin--rough, like when he had taken that water bottle from you yesterday, and warm against your cool body from being seated next to a vent in class during the beginnings of a new winter. You wanted to leer at the contact, snatch your wrist away and make your empty threats at the sheer audacity he managed to concede.

Instead, you couldn’t even wrest your attention away from where his hand held surely onto you.

At your lack of words and tense-set mouth, Atsumu pulled away, seemingly taken aback by his own actions, “Y/n, I--”

“ _‘Tsumu-kun!_ ”

A momentary sight of a dark, flowing ponytail had you regaining your composure from the stupor encompassing you; and when you finally blinked away the daze, you found Keiko embracing Atsumu, her slender arms flippantly thrown around his neck as she smiled up at him.

His hand found the small of her back, lightly resting there as if he wasn’t sure whether to mirror the way in which she enfolded around him or contritely remove himself from her hold. But Atsumu did neither as he found himself looking to you once more over the top of Keiko’s head, only to be met with that same cold expression from before, your brows just a bit more lowered now.

When had it become so fucking difficult to read your expressions?

Casually, you averted your eyes anywhere but at the two; it felt wrong to watch as you idly stood by, wrong even to be in the immediate area of them. You knew from Riye’s call last Sunday that Atsumu and Keiko had gone to the market together, most likely as a date from what you heard, but you hadn’t thought whatever was occurring between the both of them would progress to the point of forsaking any and all formalities in such a short span of time.

It almost seemed...rushed. Forced.

Atsumu patted Keiko’s back softly, chuckling awkwardly under his breath as she released him, “Hey, Keiko, did you need somethin’?”

“No,” she beamed, “just wanted to say hi.” And Atsumu smiled in return, bringing a hand to the back of his neck.

Your features twisted in apprehension because if you had to play spectator for a second more, you were sure to end up twitching in exasperation at the waste of time, “I’m gonna...go back to my classroom. I’ll see you at practice, Miya.” You then inclined your head to the lithe girl whose hand remained planted against the setter’s chest, “Sasaki.”

Though, when you turned on a heel, Atsumu’s voice was quick to echo about the empty hallways, “Damnit, y/n, _wait_.” A noise of protest from Keiko and you knew that Atsumu had torn himself from her as you suddenly found him standing in front of you in an effort to keep you from slinking around the corner in which you came, “Just--just wait a fucking second, alright?” There was no way he would let you go that easily, not when he had lost sleep last night trying to figure out any other way to avoid this only to realize much too late that it was nearly inevitable; you were his best bet on getting his grades up to Coach Oomi’s liking, as much as it displeased him to admit.

You folded your arms across your chest and Atsumu recognized the stance you often took when you were growing bored; down to the way you imperceptibly let your head fall back and looked at him beneath half-lidded eyes.

When he returned to Keiko, you observed the manner in which he quietly pleaded with her before the girl acquiesced with an almost pout and took her leave unwillingly, but not without pride, based on the way she held herself as she walked off; shoulders back, chin held high, tapping away at her phone a bit too stiffly.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Atsumu mumbled as he approached you, running a hand down his mouth.

“Wow, three ‘sorries’ within five minutes--what did I do to deserve such a blessing?” You responded in a satirical lilt, falling in place beside the setter as he motioned with a jerk of his head to walk with him.

“Don’t press your luck.”

“Too late.”

He wanted to laugh.

If only for how easily the two of you had slipped back into mindless banter, but he couldn’t. Not as he remembered where, exactly, the conversation had left off.

He didn’t even know if he wanted to hear the answer anyway.

“Five days.”

Atsumu glanced at you, face furrowed in question, “Huh?”

“Five days--,” you repeated, “--I’d say that’s a new record for dropping formalities with a girl.” The instant the words left your mouth, you knew it was the wrong thing to say, that you should’ve left it alone even if it was true. It was obvious that he was trying to mend his mistake, a rare event in itself, and here you were sundering his attempt before he could even consider to finish.

You chalked it up to old habits, lest it be anything else.

Because it couldn’t be anything else.

Right?

...Right?

“Since when did you care?” It was a statement more than anything from Atsumu, a blunt one at that.

“I don’t.”

He granted you a look of mocking belief, which went unnoticed by you, too busy messing with the pads of your fingers by pressing your thumb nail into the skin until you had to pull away from the pain.

Atsumu sniffed, sliding his hands into their respective pockets once more. He’d rehearsed this over and over and over in his head the night before and all throughout today--a broken record trying to find the right tune. He’d thought out every last minute detail, every possible scenario, every way in which this could go wrong, and every way he could make it go right.

He’d been fucked from the beginning, so what did it matter now?

“I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit :D alright let's get into it cause I got a lot to unpack...  
> Obviously it's been a while since I updated this, which you all know is bc of school from my announcement awhile back, and so I'm happy to have finally finished this damn chapter. I mean seriously I would start writing and then I would be like "meh I'll do it later" and then later never came and you know drill. Anyways, I finished the chapter and that's all that matters 😅 I actually meant for this chapter to span more time (like have more happen in it) than to focus on this one scene in particular but I felt like this was an important scene to further develop the relationship btwn Atsumu and the reader and give yall some crumbs on whats going on btwn Atsumu and Keiko ;). In the next chapter I plan to span more time but we'll see what happens bc nothing ever goes the way I initially plan it...
> 
> Speaking of the next chapter! I hate to say it, I really do, but I'm gonna be going on a hiatus through november and probably through a majority of december if not all of it. There's just a lot of stuff going on, especially since mid terms will be rolling around soon enough, and the reason why I'm telling you this is so that yall are aware that I won't be posting for awhile and that it doesn't seem like i just went MIA on you guys, but I already know that yall are super understanding and please I love every single one of you 🥺 (this isnt to say that I won't be COMPLETELY gone lol I'll still be talking to you guys and answering whatever comments come my way, I just wont be posting)
> 
> Now moving on to your (not so)daily dose of oversharing on the internet with strangers (but you're MY strangers so I like to think I can be pretty open here)--uhh last friday i went to a football game bc why not, it was an important game and the last one I'll be going to as a high school student, and I hung out w some friends and at one point we were jumping up and down and the cameras were on us and then I realized a lil too late that I was NOT wearing a supportive enough bra and I slapped my arms over my chest so fast...anyways there is now a television recording of me holding my chest in shock somewhere out there 😪 Moving on! last night my sister was upset about some things and I talked it out w her and then we somehow got talking about how I wanted to cut my hair...in short (HAH no pun intended) she ended up helping me cut like four inches off my hair and I intend on cutting more bc I want like collarbone length hair. and uh no my parents do not know bc I've had my hair up around them but then again what are they gonna do? get mad at me? ok. ground me? I don't even leave the house so whats the point. I think they'd be more like "seriously?" than actually mad but anyways!  
> so am I okay? that is up for discussion :D (kidding, totally kidding, im fine, i promise)
> 
> also have yall seen the new sibling stuff?? SUNA HAS A LITTLE SISTER, BO HAS TWO OLDER SISTERS, KITA HAS A LITTLE SIS, I COULD LITERALLY GO ON LIKE PLEASE MY HEART THIS IS SO FUCKING ADORABLE I JUST CANT GET OVER THE FACT THAT SUNA HAS A LITTLE SISTER FGAHKFSAGASFGVAUH I SWEAR IM NOT AN EMOTIONAL PERSON BUT DAMNIT IF THAT ISNT THE CUTEST THING. and speaking of Suna!! (kinda new ep spoilers ahead ?) guys we got so MUCH of him like wowowowow he actually said more than a sentence, I never thought I'd see it 🤧 BUT THE WAY IT ENDED W KITA ARE U FUCKING KIDDING ME THE MOMENT WE GET SOME ACTUAL KITA CONTENT AND THEN THEY JUST "hehe no❤" LIKE HUH??  
> ok ok, im calm, im fine.  
> I also found out today that Furudate released like a sketch or drawing or panel whatever it was where the twins were flirting w tanaka's older sister and BLANTANTLY just staring at her chest like those little shits, oh my god, of course they would..
> 
> Alright, alright, sorry for the long ending note I just had a lot to say since the last time I posted on here😅 as always, make sure yall are taking care of yourself, eating when you need to eat, drinking your water, getting your assignments done AND NOT OVERWORKING YOURSELF OR OVERWHELMING YOURSELF I KNOW THAT AT LEAST ONE OF YALL IS DOING IT SO STOP IT BEFORE YOU BURN YOURSELF OUT BC YOU ARE APPRECIATED AND YOU SHOULD BE PROUD OF HOW FAR YOU'VE GOTTEN EVEN IF ITS ONLY A LITTLE. IM MAINLY LOOKING AT YOU AP/DC/IB/PRE-AP KIDS BUT THIS APPLIES TO ALL OF YOU IN SCHOOL AND/OR WORK--so, with that being said in an aggressively lovingly way, i am BEGGING you to put your mental health before school/work bc i rarely ever did and i dont want any of yall to go through that like i did


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